The morning news. [volume] (Savannah, Ga.) 1887-1900, 1887-05-15
SMOKE"
A Touching Story of the Custer Mas
sacre.
From the Chicago Inter Ocean

A Touching Story of the Custer Mas
sacre.
From the Chicago Inter Ocean
When you hear this story you will see how
appropriate his name is. The small, we'll
built terrier lying there on the Turkish rug,
in spot Of sunlight that brings out the sill
yer in his dark hair beautifully and makes
the parting on his head like a fine line of
silk. Smoke, old boy, look up. Where did
you come froms Who are you, Smokes Do
you remember the Captains whistler Ali
good old fellow, good dog; of course you do!
eyes while tell the young people your story
and how you got your name.
Gen Custer had started forth on that last
tragic march of his. Smokes mistress, the
wife of Gen TeI1.y's aid-de-camp, has Just
been telling me of the strange, sad morning
when she and some other ladies of the
camp stood and watched the line going out
The sound of the march came in a peculiar
pitiful, wild music from the Indian scouts
who headed the little army. They were
singing their death song, with which they
always go to battle, and it must be heard to
be appreciated, so weird and strange and
wild it is and while the scouts with their
varied coiored flags flying, ride by, grooming,
chanting, singing, one can fancy plain dark
| ened by contending enemies, death riding
fiercely and cruelty, victor here and there,
contending grimly with life ON every side
All you who have read the story know that
Custer and his forces, contrary to first
arrangements, pushed on and met the
Indians at Big Horn-meeting slaughter as
well. The battle, nearly all of whose
records the grave holds in its grasp of eter-
nal secrecy, was fought, and two days later
Gen. Terry's troops, marching down upon
the valley, found only the dead emblems Of
the fight. There lay their dead comrades-
silent and alone, not a creature to be seen fur
or near, but away in the distance a shadowy
outline marks the vanishing Indian forces.
| Capt. c., Gen. Terry's aid-de-camp, WAS
one of those who marked the dead and gave
them burial with all the means of identified
ton possible, and it was while he was en-
gagged in this sad occupation that looking
up he beheld near him a small dog-fierce in
expression for terrier, not supplcating OF
wistful exactly, but bright eyed and angry.
| The Captain would have caressed the little
creature, but it trotted away. He followed
and was led to one of the Indian tents,
where, stark and cold lay the dogs master
an Indian who had crawled there to die.
1t was impossible then to coax the dog
into any show of friendliness, but late in
the day the Captain saw him again APP
| proaching--this time the eyes had lost their
| thing pitiful and pleading as disregarding
the other officers, the little dog ran up to
| his first friend and held out his paw Then
| the Captain discovered that q
cactus thorn had been embedded
| in it, and the dog, with quick
instinct, had sought him to procure relief
| The thorn and all the prejudices were re-
moved together. There was no further
| question Of Cancellation. The Captain
| adopted the dog then and there and sent
him home to his wife, who, because of the
| fires he had come out of on the field of bat
| tie, christened him Smoke"
So yon see Smoke is sort of hero now in
his Western home, and is enjoying an old
age Of comfort and honor, although the de-
| tails of his career before that day of battle
Scotch terrier, quick, alert and sagacious,
with one popularity. Nothing will induce
him to make friends with strangers. Loyal
and devoted to his mistress and her imme-
diate family-dignifed and tolerant of out
siders, yet he is under no circumstances to
| be beguiled into demonstrations of any sort
away from home, and at the suggestion
even of a caress from a strangers hand
will rise from his recumbent posture, give
himself little shake, and in the most dig
nified manner stalk away, leaving you with
a sense of your own impertinence in having
attempted anything like intimacy with so
exclusive a canine sovereign Do you hear
all this, Smoke, old boy? Ali there, you
are ready enough TO get up and wag your
old tail and run to the window, for Dorotha
and Marguerite are calling to you Doro-
tha's eyes are eager, her little golden rings
of hair dancing in the breeze, and am sure
Smoke realizes that she, too, is "Child of
of the Regiment y